


Phlegm

by QuarterClever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cancer, FYSL Hotter than Hell Fanwork Exchange 2013, Fic Exchange, Gen, M/M, Samifer - Freeform, a Lucifer by any other name would still be just as creepily obsessed with Sam, cancer patient!Sam, doctor!Lucifer, not that cancer is fluffy just that the fics often are, possibly one of the least fluffy cancer fics ever, terrible summary is terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarterClever/pseuds/QuarterClever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: go wherever you want with this, but an AU where either Sam or Lucifer finds out they have cancer. Sad, sweet, bittersweet, tear-jerking—do whatever you please. </p><p>All Sam wants to do is go home and pretend he's puking from too much beer and not the new meds from the drug trial he's in, and right now that's about as much as he cares about his health. All the doctor running the study wants to do is make sure Sam gets better, and right now he thinks it's about time Sam learns exactly what that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phlegm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaggles-the-spagel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=spaggles-the-spagel).



> Fic written for tumblr user [spaggles-the-spagel](http://spaggles-the-spagel.tumblr.com).
> 
> Lucifer's is named Luce Foster and is referred to throughout as Dr. Foster.
> 
> I have never had cancer, so all of the information about that is what I’ve learned second hand from school, TV, Wikipedia, and friends/family (although I have obviously had my own first-hand encounters with being sick and doctors, so some of that worked its way in here).

The first time he coughed up blood is something he’ll never forget; it’s every time after that first that blurs together into a jangled mess of phlegm and tissues, all overlaid with splotches of red. Sam thinks it’s one of those things, like how people say you’ll always remember where you were when you heard JFK died (not born) or the Berlin Wall fell (6 years old, so he doesn’t remember that either). He remembers the blood though (driving home, coughing and coughing and finally having to grab a napkin one-handed from the glovebox, feeling like he’d lost a lung, looking down, nearly driving the car off the road in his panic as he just _stared_ ).

It’s just no one asks about that over cocktails. And it doesn’t even much matter if he’s talking cosmos or chemo.

“Sam? Are you okay to drive?” (driving back home so slow, so careful, holding up the napkin with one hand because he can’t look away, that’s blood, that’s _blood_ , that shouldn’t be there) “Is there someone who can come pick you up?” Dr. Foster’s standing in front of where Sam’s sitting in his usual plastic-covered recliner.

“No. There’s no one.” He’s not really sure what questions he’s answering. His shirt is still unbuttoned. Sam hacks into a tissue, crumpling it up without looking. “I take the bus anyway.” Dr. Foster frowns as he takes a step back. Sam can’t read his expression, but he thinks that maybe Dr. Foster’s both angry and pleased by what Sam tells him.

“Your roommate can’t be bothered any longer?” Sam shrugs. He can’t remember ever telling Dr. Foster about Brady in the first place, so there’s no way he’s going to explain how Brady’s new favorite way of coping with all of Sam’s crap has been to go and find some ‘medicine’ of his own. “You really shouldn’t be taking public transit, Sam,” Dr. Foster chastises him as he feels Sam’s forehead with the back of his hand. There’s a thermometer on the wall two feet away; the nurse checked his temperature with it when he got here. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t managed to break it in the past few hours. “You feel warm.”

“Your hands are cold.”

“We don’t want you to catch something,” Dr. Foster continues, “and you really don’t look like you’re feeling well enough to deal with a crowded bus right now. Let me give you a ride home.” From anyone else the offer would be generous and caring and Sam wouldn’t say yes but he also wouldn’t spend time looking for ulterior motives. But this is Dr. Foster.

Sam protests, or at least he tries to. Dr. Foster just pulls him up and lets Sam lean on him as he guides Sam to his car (something new, expensive, Dean would know). Dr. Foster’s always been a bit too personal with Sam, seemed a bit too interested in him, but it was never anything he could call him on. This is new, but at the same time Sam isn’t surprised. He thinks he could probably call him on this, wonders why he isn’t. They’re pulling out of the hospital parking lot almost before he’s realized. The radio’s off. The silence is broken only by road noise and Sam’s coughs. It’s not enough.

“Dr. Foster—“ Sam starts.

“Luce.” Dr. Foster smiles at Sam as he changes lanes. He doesn’t add any explanation for the sudden shift in how Sam’s supposed to address him, but then Sam guesses he doesn’t need to. “Where do I turn next?” Sam tells him the street. It’s the first time he’s given a direction and they’ve been driving for 15 minutes. “How’s the treatment going?”

“Fine.” He just wants to go home and puke in peace, that’s how it’s going.

“There’s no way of knowing until you have your next scan, but everything I’ve been seeing so far looks promising. It looks like this protocol is really going to work for you; I’m glad we were able to get you into the study last minute like that.” Sam doesn’t even bother to shrug with both shoulders this time. He’s pretty sure he’s going to vomit up his lungs and cough up his stomach if he opens his mouth to talk. He doesn’t normally feel this bad, not since he’s been on the new drugs anyway. Maybe Dr. Foster’s right and he _is_ getting sick. Sicker. “Once we get some definite results and know the crizotinib is working for you we’ll have to celebrate.”

Sam’s halfway through nodding his head when the _wrongness_ of that statement strikes him.

“I thought it was double-blind.” Dr. Foster just _hm_ ’s softly and turns the corner. “That means I don’t know if I’m getting the regular chemo or this new stuff or what, just that I’m getting _something_ and that whatever it is I’m still being treated.” Another _hm_ , Dr. Foster acknowledging that, yes, that is part of what’s involved in a double-blind study. “It means that _you_ don’t know what I’m getting either.”

The _hm_ is different this time.

“It means you’re not _supposed_ to know what I’m getting.” The _hm_ is back to that same calm assent. Yes, that is how double blind studies are _supposed_ to work.

“But you do.” When he meets Dr. Foster’s eyes in the mirror, he can tell they both know exactly what’s going on. He still has to give voice to it though, because this is the kind of elephant in the room that goes on a stampede if you leave it unacknowledged. “You know that I’m getting the drug from the trial, the one that’s supposed to be really effective. You made _sure_ that I was getting it.”

“Are you unhappy with your current treatment plan, Sam?” Dr. Foster enquires. His voice is calm, courteous, and doesn’t sound at all like someone who’s just been accused of a serious breach of medical ethics.

“No! No, it’s fine but this isn’t just my treatment! This is a medical trial; it’s not just about me. You’re compromising it; the results aren’t going to _mean_ anything because they’ll be invalid, it’ll mess up everything for all the other patients—“ Sam’s got the voice of one of his old undergraduate professors shrieking in his head, the one that taught research methods.

Dr. Foster shrugs. Sam’s pushed himself as far up against the glass of the window as he can manage. “You have cancer.” Dr. Foster glances over at him, eyes sharp, at Sam’s quick breath, and Sam wonders just how much about him Dr. Foster knows. “Sam. You have cancer, but I’m not going to let you die from it. You’re too important for that. More important than the trial.”

“You can’t do this. I won’t _let_ you do this.” His jaw’s set, and for just a moment he feels stronger than he has in months.

“It’s already been done.” Dr. Foster’s smile is self-satisfied and open, inviting Sam to share in it.

“I’ll drop out.” It’s the only threat he has left—somehow he doesn’t think reporting Dr. Foster would do much good, not with how unconcerned he’s acting.

“I’ll just bring you back. Or get the medicine to you another way. There are others in the trial who need it less, after all.”

(driving home, coughing and coughing and finally having to grab a tissue one-handed from the center console, feeling like he’d lost a lung, looking over, nearly throwing himself out the car door in his panic as he just _stared_ )

“—breathe, Sam, just breathe. You’re fine.” Dr. Foster keeps talking to him, _at_ him, but Sam’s not really listening. This is too big, too strange, too much to deal with on top of everything else. They’re outside Sam’s apartment and he doesn’t even know how long they’ve been sitting here.

“You’re a _doctor_ , whatever happened to ‘do no harm?’” He’s not sure where exactly the loathing dripping off the words is directed.

“Sam.” Dr. Foster reaches out to lay one cold hand on Sam’s shoulder, drawing him closer. “I will never harm you.”

“Why me?” Sam manages to choke out. He’s not sure if he’s crying or not, but he wouldn’t be surprised. “Why did you…”

“It had to be you, Sam.” Dr. Foster’s voice is so sad, so sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Sam, I really am. But you’ll understand. Once you’re feeling better, once the cancer’s gone… later, you’ll see.” He brushes Sam’s bangs back from his forehead. “It’s always been you.”

The first time he coughed up blood is something he’ll never forget; he thinks this is going to be one of those unforgettable firsts too. Already knows it won’t be the last, not with the way Dr. Foster’s mouth is curled up at the corner, the way his fingers stroke along Sam’s cheek just a second too long as he checks his forehead for the fever they both know is there. He just wonders if every time after this first is going to blur together, and if it will be better or worse if they do.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is short and I'm not sure I actually like it, but I guess it kind of shows kind of the creepier side to Lucifer's relationship with Sam that can tend to be glossed over in fics? I don't know, this fic makes me vaguely uncomfortable in a way I can't articulate, and I wrote it, but...
> 
> The original fic I had planned out for this prompt actually ended up not working because I hadn't realized it called for an AU. So I ended up frantically scrambling for an idea at the last minute was basically free-associating and made this lovely little connection between Sam being sick, being sick from cancer, the trials that made Sam sick, and medical trials. So I was like “oh, I can totally do an AU where Sam has cancer and Lucifer is his doctor and Sam’s in some sort of cancer treatment trial only it turns out he’s in one of the control groups and he’s not getting any better but the people in treatment groups are so Lucifer basically botches the whole trial to try and save Sam.
> 
> And then I remembered that that was basically a plotline from House, but oh well I’m pretty sure this is different enough.
> 
> Also this was supposed to be fluff I swear it was but I am apparently physically incapable of writing samifer fluff and so I apologize to the prompter for that if that's what you were really hoping for.
> 
> Also Lucifer’s last name is a (terrible) corruption of Phosphur(us) which is the Greek for morningstar (or so Wikipedia informs me). Combine it with Luce, for Luce Foster, and I figure it’s a half-decent “normal sounding” (in that it doesn’t sound entirely contrived for the purposes of making it work for the purposes of fic and, let’s face it, few parents are going to actually name their kids Lucifer) approximation of Lucifer.
> 
> [Crizotinib](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crizotinib) is a (fairly) new cancer treatment that is apparently useful for a particular type of lung cancers that tend to be more common among younger people who have never smoked-- so if Sam were going to get lung cancer, I figured it’s possible he could have this type so he could take this drug, although honestly I was doing Wikipedia research for this so please don’t take this as a legit source of medical information or anything.


End file.
